


Reciprocrated

by LadybugsFanfics



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alternate Universe, Co-workers, Crush, F/M, Fluff, Locked Out, Lockipicking, Reader-Insert, Writer Reader, long time crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:48:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21771580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadybugsFanfics/pseuds/LadybugsFanfics
Summary: Inspired bythis tumblr post I can’t find on tumblr.Your boss locks you, your coworker and himself out of the building. Good news; you don’t have to call a locksmith because you can pick locks. Little did you know, after countless of unimpressive things you’ve done, this was enough to tip the favors to you.
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston/Reader
Kudos: 11





	Reciprocrated

There was a million other scenarios that had run through your head when you first decided to learn lockpicking. There was the ‘impress others your age’ scenario, there was the ‘if I don’t earn enough money maybe I’ll just become a robber’ scenario, and most importantly ‘if I throw away the key, I can just pick the lock anyway so I’m gonna destroy the key to my safe’. The last one was the only reason you still knew how to do it. And it had turned out to be a good thing that one day a few years back where you lost your keys, someone broke into your apartment and didn’t have a key for the safe―pretty nice because you caught the robber trying to break it open and therefore you didn’t lose anything. 

You hadn’t thought of the scenario of misplacing your keys; it was almost impossible when you double-checked before leaving the house everyday. 

On the other hand, it wasn’t you who had misplaced them. It was your boss. 

“I-I’m really sorry,” he says to you and your coworker. “I don’t know how… I was sure I took them with me.” The man fishes his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll call a locksmith and we’ll have this solved in no time.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” you say, your tone slightly nervous. “I know how to pick locks.”

Both your boss and your coworker give you slightly shocked expressions. “You know what?” asks Tom, who you’ve had a crush on since you started working there. The ‘impress’ scenario wouldn’t work though; Through the years you had worked together he had seen you do countless stupid things

  1. Stumble at your own feet

    1. This was like, the week you started and let’s just say some words were said and something hot was spilled

  2. Fall out of you-lost-count-of-how-many trees

    1. Don’t ask why because you honestly don’t know

    2. Better question is why did you climb them in the first place?

  3. Meet his dog and immediately switch to baby-voice when talking to him

    1. Like he introduced you and there was no thinking in your brain. You went “aww, so cute, you are so cute” the minute you saw him and when you spoke to Tom again, your voice was caught like that for a few awkward moments

  4. And then, there is the fact that he knows you write and read fanfics online about various sets of celebrities

    1. The question is whether he’s found it and checked out what you’ve written

    2. Maybe it’s best you don’t know




There were countless other things to add to the list of ‘this will never impress the dude I have a crush on’, but those were the highlights. 

And now, you stand between two guys looking at you like they just now realised you were a woman―like Ron realising Hermione is a girl in Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire. Yeah, Tom also knows you have obscure references from like everything. 

“Yeah, I know how to pick locks,” you nod. “Any of you got a paperclip?” 

Both shake their head, clearly not over what you’ve told them. You rummage your pockets and are pleased to find a pair of hairpins **.** Thank God you know how to do it without an actual set. 

“Why do you know this?” asks Tom as you bend one of the hairpins into a long metal wire, stretching it out. You shrug, not wanting to answer and busy yourself taking off the rubber ends with your teeth. 

Your boss on the other hand, known as Mr. ‘I-care-so-tell-me’ Henderson puts an arm on your shoulder. “Is there anything you would like to talk about?” he asks, his voice laced with concern. 

“Nope,” you reply. You stick the pin into the lock a little bit and bend it, making it curl up a little bit at the end. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s so weird about this. A lot of people know how to pick locks.”

“Yes, robbers and… other people,” replies Mr. Henderson. He’s taken his hand off your shoulder, letting you work in peace. 

You shrug again, and bend the other end of the pin to create a loop making it easier to hold. Putting the prepared pin in your mouth, you take the other one and you put enough pressure on it to bend it in a right angle, which isn’t as easy as it sounds. 

Tom comes a little closer at your side. He leans against the wall next to the door, being able to watch you work. “Are you sure? This isn’t something a lot of people know.”

Putting the right angled pin into the bottom of the lock and turning it slowly to the left (the way the key is turned when you unlock the door), you glance at Tom. Since you have a pin in your mouth you can’t answer so you just give him a smile you hope puts some reassurance in his mind. He doesn’t look convinced. 

You put in the other pin, bent side up, and jiggle it up and down. This way you get a feel of how easy it will be. The pins inside the lock have to move into place, which they do with a click. Finding one hard one and putting pressure on it until it clicks gives way for others to become hard. Eventually though, with Mr. Henderson’s background noise sighing and muttering to himself and Tom’s almost worried look, the lock opens. You take out the pins and push down the handle. “Tada,” you say as the door swings open. 

The two men stare at you, both with mixed expressions of astonishment and worry. You also note the way Tom’s gaze also has a tiny hint of something more―you can’t pinpoint what, though. 

“Are you two just gonna stand there or are we gonna go inside?” you ask them, still holding the door open. “If I close the door, the lock’s gonna click back into place and you’ll be stuck. I’m not gonna help another time.”

Tom nods. “Of course. Uhh…” He walks past you, a frown deeply pronounced on his face. He turns back as he’s inside. “I…” His eyes meet yours. “I… Uhh, thank you, I guess.” Then he leaves. 

Mr. Henderson on the other hand walks past and says, “we have to talk sometime soon, Y/N. This isn’t normal.” Before you get to protest, he walks away. 

You sigh, shake your head and walk after them. Hopefully, being overtime to pick a lock has something to say about the next big project coming along, one that you would very much like to score. 

> _____

Walking out of your office with your belongings, being the last person out of the building, you can’t help but talk a little to yourself. Not only did you probably screw up your chances with Tom even greater than you already had, but Mr. Henderson had seemed quite eager for that talk. As he left, he’d popped into your office and asked when you had some free time, hoping to talk before the end of the week. 

It’s Thursday. 

Fortunately, you don’t have time. 

Tom, on the other hand, seemed to have exactly that, because you find him waiting by the elevator as you approach. You see him press the button as he notices you. _Fuck_ , you think, _he’s so nice_. A wail sounds inside your head. 

“Hi,” you say and stop in front of the elevator. 

“Hi”, he replies, and steps to stand beside you. 

Your heart goes off. _He’s so close. He’s too close. God, what to do? What to think? Maybe don’t think?_ You swallow a lump in your throat and let out a sigh of relief as the elevator plings and opens. The little break from standing close doesn’t last long as you end up standing with the same space apart inside the lift as well. 

“I was thinking,” starts Tom. He adjusts his tie slightly. “…would you like to have a drink? Sometime?” 

“A drink?” you ask, not sure if you heard him right. You shift your position to face him and note his pursed lips and how his eyes flicker, landing everywhere but you. 

His adam apple moves as he swallows. “Yeah, a drink. Tonight, maybe? Or tomorrow?” He sounds nervous. _Is he nervous?_

You nod. “That sounds… great, actually. Yeah, I’m not doing anything tonight. Or tomorrow for that matter.” 

“Great,” he says, though he still sounds nervous.

> _____

“No,” you laugh, “that’s a lie.”

Tom shakes his head. “I’m serious. You said that at the, uhh, I think it was the office Christmas Party.” He smiles at you and takes a sip of his drink.

You shake your head. “How? Why…?” You take a sip of your own drink. “I wasn’t that drunk even.”

“Oh, sure.” Tom changes his expression to a serious one, clearly mocking you. “You weren’t so drunk you sang karaoke, yelled about how unfair work can be at times and also, though this no one else heard, told me you like me.” At the last part, the mocking part of his expression changes and he actually looks rather serious. 

“I.. I did not…” You bury your face in your hands. “I did not sing karaoke. No! I can’t have- I can’t sing!” Purposefully ignoring the part where he said you’d confessed to liking him, probably the part he wanted you to address. 

Tom laughs. “Oh, no. Don’t say that. You can sing, it just sounds like a seagull choking.”

You gasp. “The audacity,” you say, and then join in laughing. “Anyway, you wanna hear something?” you ask, changing the subject.

“Of course I do,” replies Tom and raises his brows. 

You purse your lips. “The only reason I can pick locks is because I was a dumb teenagers wanting to impress other dumb teenagers,” you admit. 

“Really? So, what you did before was also you trying to impress someone? Or just dumb luck?” Tom smiles widely. 

“If you’re interested in knowing, it didn’t work.” You smile, and bite the inside of your lips as you meet his gaze. “Not sure if I really wanted to impress anyone back there though, but I did want to get into the building.”

Tom smiled. “You sure?” he asks. “You did impress me.”

Despite the really huge desire to not blush, you can feel the heat creep into your cheeks. You purse your lips to keep from smiling too big and look down into your lap. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest; had the bar been quiet, you are sure he would’ve heard it. 

“Really, you did.” You gaze up and meet Tom’s eyes. “Most of what you do impresses me.” 

“Really?” you ask.

He nods. “Yeah. With work, and the fact that you know all this random bits of information. Oh, and, uh, you’re a really good writer.” 

You swallow a lump in your throat. “You- You’ve read… “ You cough to get your voice back. “Please tell me you’ve read the original work and not the fanfiction.”

Tom lets out his patented ‘hehe’ laugh. “Both, actually.”

“Oh God,” you say and bury your face in your hands. 

“Don’t be hard on yourself. It’s good! Well written, amusing, other words I don’t particularly want to say out loud.” Tom chuckles softly. 

You look up at him. “Are you sure? Did you read everything? Most of them are more than embarrassing,” you say. 

Tom’s eyes crinkle as he smiles. “I have. I was wondering, though. One of the original ones, it’s quite recent. The little, uhh, it’s called ‘Unreciprocrated’ I think. Is that about someone?” Despite the smile and the soft tone, he looks serious as he asks. 

“That one, oh,” you bite your lips, “yeah, I guess it is.”

“Can I get to know who?” 

You shake your head. “No. You know the person and I don’t want… I don’t want him to know.” 

“I know him?” Tom’s eyes widen. “The only people in both our circles are from work.”

You nod. “Yeah.” 

Tom rolls his eyes. “Can I know something about him? I want to figure out who it is.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Because I didn’t say no to tell you because I don’t want you to know,” you reply sarcastically. 

“Worth a try,” he chuckles. “I will figure it out.” 

You nod, making a face saying ‘sure, you will’. Though you kind of hope he does.

\----

_Knock. Knock._

“Hello, Y/N.” Mr. Henderson pops his head in the doorway to your office. “I was wondering if you had some free time.” He takes a step inside.

“Oh, yeah,” you say. “Not sure if I have. Got a lot of stuff to do before the weekend.”

Mr. Henderson sighs. “Well, what about lunch? That’s in―” He checks the clock on his wrist. “―forty minutes. You’re surely not going to work during lunch.”

_Anything to not have this conversation_ , you think. “Actually, I have _that_ much to do.”

“Well, well,” he shakes his head, “I do believe you could take the time, but I’ll leave you to it.” Mr. Henderson hesitates a little in the doorway. “You’re sure you don’t have time?”

“Positive, sir,” you reply with a tight smile. “Sometimes there’s just no relaxing.”

He sighs. “Have a nice day, then.” Finally, he leaves.

You go back to work, sighing as you do in fact have a lot to do. At least, not everything’s by desk. After a few minutes you get to take a trip. A trip to Tom’s office, which is down the hall from yours. 

“Hey, Tom, could you―” You stop mid-sentence as you walk into his office and see about four other people there. There’s Mark; a dude who started working there the same week as you; Finn; he’d worked there since forever―to be honest, you weren’t even sure he knew how long he’d worked there; Connor; he’d started there about two years after you and hit on you on several occasions, and then there was Ben; as far as you knew, he was Tom’s best friend and the only of the four married. He even had kids. 

They all look at you, making you feel slightly uncomfortable. “Okay, I’ll just come back later,” you say and slowly back out of the room. 

“No, don’t go,” says Connor. “Tom was just telling us about you guys being locked out yesterday. Really cool you know how to pick locks.”

You stop. “Yeah, sure. No biggie. Anyways, Tom could you send me the files for the last Big Project?” 

Tom smiles. “Yes, of course. I’ll get right to it.”

“No hurry, just by the end of the day.” You give him a small smile. “I’ll leave you guys to it.” And you turn around and get back out. _God, he’s probably trying to figure out which of them is the person from the story._ You silently reprimand yourself for actually telling him he knows the guy. But of course he knows him, it is him. 

Either way, he probably won’t figure that out unless you tell him. And you don’t plan to do that in the nearest future. 

_____

As you told Mr. Henderson you would, you work and eat lunch at the same time. The only little break you actually get is the one where you go and get your lunch from the fridge. You find the five men from before sitting there, talking and eating their own lunch. 

“But you really think one of us?” asks Mark. 

You frown slightly as you open the fridge and find your little lunch box. 

“Hey, Y/N, wanna sit down and eat with us?” 

You turn around and see them all staring at you. “Uhh, can’t actually. I have too much to do so I gotta work and eat.” You shrug, purse your lips and give them a ‘I’m sorry but that’s how it is’ smile. 

“Too bad,” says Finn, “would’ve liked to hear what more stuff you can do. Bet picking locks isn’t the only thing.” For some reason, the end of the sentence sounds suggesting. 

You nod. “Yeah, too bad,” you say. “See you later,” you add, a little louder and walk away. You’d never felt uncomfortable around them before, but now, the atmosphere around them grew tighter. Though why, you couldn’t say. 

_____

The clock is nearing five and you feel no closer to done. Had you had the talk with Mr. Henderson, you would’ve had to stay even longer. You already know you’ll be staying at least an hour overtime, if not more. 

“Hi.” A voice comes at the door and Tom’s head pokes in. “You leaving soon?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Probably gonna be at least an hour longer,” you say. 

“Really? You want help with anything?” He comes into the office and stops behind your desk. He leans down to see what you’re working on, one arm on the back of your chair and one on the desk. 

“I…” You clear your voice. “I guess that wouldn’t be so bad. Sooner I can leave the better. I have a feeling Mr. Henderson’s waiting around to when I’ll leave so he can talk to me.”

Tom laughs. It rings in your ears and you feel it deep in your bones. “Okay.” He pulls the chair on the other side of the desk next to yours. “What can I do?”

“Well, maybe get another computer because this won’t go faster with only one,” you laugh. He just flashes a smile and gets up to get the computer. 

_____

Thanks to Tom you actually finish in an hour. Without him, you would’ve sat there for at least another. You pack up and walk with him to the elevator. 

“Thanks,” you say. “I would’ve stayed way longer if you hadn’t helped.”

“No problem. I had fun,” he replies and flashes you a smile. “Oh, and I have a guess as to who your story is about.”

You look up at him. “Oh.”

He nods confidently. “I believe it’s Mark.”

“Really? Why?”

“Well, when I got home yesterday, I read through the story again. I hoped there would be something there to tell me who it was. And well, you described the man as smart, tall, handsome, slightly ginger-haired and with something of a beard.” He says it all matter-of-factly, like this is his greatest discovery. What tugs at your heart is how he doesn’t sound jealous or sad by the fact, showing you yet again that you never had a shot. 

“And why do you believe I’d describe an exact copy of the person?” you ask. 

Tom frowns. “I hadn’t thought about that, actually.” 

You get to the elevator and press the button. “Well, Mr. Smarty-Pants, maybe think about it, and also think about the fact that it was written about one and a half years ago. How did Mark look then?” 

“Mark recently grew a beard. That’s true. He didn’t use to have one. Actually, the only ones who did were Finn and I. But neither of us are ginger,” says Tom. He makes a grimace, clearly trying to tie the knots together a second time. 

“To be honest, when you grow yours out, it has a kind of reddish tint.” You shrug as he raises a brow at you. “What? I notice little things.”

The elevator plings open. “You notice little things? Are you sure?” asks Tom as you both step inside. 

“I believe I do, yeah, why?” You frown up at him. _God, he’s tall. Nice tall, though. Not too tall. Perfect._

“Really? So, you notice hints people scatter to show that they like you? Or comments here and there that are supposed to be flirty but you don’t seem to take them as such?” he asks. 

Something tells you you should ask if he’s done it but you refrain from doing so. “Nobody does that so there’s nothing to notice,” you say, “or is this just Connor you’re talking about because that’s not hints, he’s always saying he should take me out someday.”

Tom shakes his head. “Not Connor. I notice that makes you uncomfortable, and I said hints. What Connor does is rather inappropriate.” 

You purse your lips and look down at the elevator floor. “You notice that?” you ask softly. 

He nods. “Also noticed that you weren’t too upset having to work during lunch after Finn said ‘too bad’. I don’t know why, but what he said, or possibly, how he said it, made you uncomfortable.”

“Yeah,” you say, “I’ve never really felt like that around them before, except Connor, but something was different in Finn’s voice.”

Tom nods. “I noticed.” He takes your hand and gives it a small squeeze. The touch has your skin burn, your heart races and you bite your lip. He doesn’t let go. “On to something else,” he says, “the boy isn’t Mark?”

You chuckle. “No, it isn’t. It’s someone else.”

“Well. It’s not Mark, not Ben―that would be weird―not Connor.” The elevator stops and the doors open. “That leaves Finn.” You walk out and he lets go of your hand. The absence has your heart race. “But, if it was Finn, you probably wouldn’t have become so uncomfortable earlier.”

“Yup. You’re correct.” You swing back and forth on your feet, getting a little impatient. 

“Everyone else are way too old. I think everyone’s married, too,” he says. Confusion is plastered all over his face. “How can it be someone I know?”

You roll your eyes. “You’ve forgotten one person,” you say. 

He raises a brow. “Who?” 

“Yourself.”

“Me? The story is about me?” He looks at you like you’re crazy, as if you just told him the biggest news he’s ever heard. “I don’t believe that.”

You take a step closer to him and look up into those beautiful blue eyes. “Why? You’re smart, you’re handsome, the kindest man I’ve ever met. You make fun of me for stupid things but always in a way so I know you’re joking and just teasing me. You have a way of making me feel safe. Literally, you stayed for a whole hour helping me finish work. My first week I stumbled and spilled coffee all over you and all you did was brush it off and say hi. You even invited me out for coffee as a ‘get to know the new colleague’ thing. How can you not believe the story is about you?”

Tom smiles. It reaches his eyes, making them wrinkle as he looks you straight in the eyes with the warmest gaze you’ve ever seen. He cups your face. “Because,” he says, “it’s not unreciprocated. I like you. I have since that day you spilled coffee on me and you couldn’t stop saying sorry. I have since the day I introduced you to Bobby and you treated him with the utmost care and with love in your eyes despite him being someone else’s dog. I have since that day you fell out of a tree―the first time―and you brushed it off like it happens every day. I have since the day you confided in me about missing your hometown. I have since the day I met you.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. _He likes you. He_ likes _you. He likes you!_ Your mind buzzes with the same thought on loop. “Really?” you ask. 

He nods. “Really.” 

Before he can say another word, you tiptoe and kiss him. He doesn’t hesitate kissing back. Fireworks explode in your gut. Fire rushes through your veins. Your heart pumps like never before. 

You deepen the kiss by bringing your arms around his neck. His hand moves down to your waist and presses you closer. It feels like it’ll last for eternity. And to be honest, you wouldn’t mind if it did. 


End file.
